


The Thrill of the Hunt

by LadyMoonshadow



Category: X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: AU, Angst, Fluff, How they met scenario, M/M, X-men - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-12
Updated: 2017-02-12
Packaged: 2018-09-23 20:04:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,192
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9674006
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyMoonshadow/pseuds/LadyMoonshadow
Summary: Who knew a crap job could change a life? A meeting of chance turns to obsession and Logan has no choice but to find the Cajun Thief that has turned his life upside down.





	1. Like Cats and Dogs

**Author's Note:**

> All X-Men characters are the property of Marvel.

Logan hated this job, it was boring as hell and slower than maple syrup in Canada. He wanted to punch Victor in the face every time he had to come into this goddamn warehouse. ‘Easy money’, his brother had said. The money was good, there was no denying that, but that was no consolation to Logan when he got so bored that he wanted to draw designs on his brother’s skin. With his claws…

What the hell was in this warehouse that was so important that it needed two night guards? There were just a bunch of crates covered in sheets and some computer equipment in the back. With the money their employer was paying them, the bastard could have gotten a security system and then Logan could be somewhere else right now, enjoying a smoke and a beer.

He preferred being outdoors, in the open air where he could see the moon and the stars, where he could scent any danger coming at them. Trapped in this gigantic metal container, the air was stagnant and filled with chemical smells. It burned his nose to the point that he’d started carrying things in his pockets to alleviate the smell. He couldn’t have his cigars in here, no smoking the boss said, but he had peppermint leaves, sometimes a bottle of cologne or a jar of the green stuff people rubbed on their chests when they were sick. He didn’t get sick, he didn’t know if it worked, but it definitely smelled better than this place.

What was in the crates that he couldn’t smoke? Something flammable most likely, but goddamn, it wasn’t like he was going to sit on one and light up. Why the sheets? What were they making in here that they had to hide it even from employees? Then again…what were they making that someone would be foolish enough to hire the two of them to look after it? They had reputations, and while it was mostly Victor’s that preceded them, there was little good said about either of them.

A couple of mercenaries, guns for hire, although they preferred their more natural weapons to guns. Still, it was a strange man that would hire them for this and every night it got just a little harder for Logan to resist opening a crate just to see what was inside. What was it he walked by night after night? Was it dangerous? Was it some kind of drug? A miracle cure for cancer or male pattern baldness? Whatever it was, Logan resented it and would have told his boss to shove the lofty three hundred an hour, if it hadn’t been for Victor.

Victor didn’t mind. He wasn’t the least bit curious. All he cared about was that they were getting paid. There could have been people in those crates, there weren’t, but he wouldn’t have cared if there were. His brother didn’t seem to mind the smells or the groan of metal that always came when a strong wind hit the building. They wouldn’t die if the place collapsed on top of them, but he would be pissed…especially if whatever the fuck they were guarding exploded.

He wasn’t a goddamn babysitter, he didn’t want to spend his nights stalking in a circle through this damn empty place where the sound of his boots on concrete threatened to drive him up the fucking wall… He wanted to kick his brother, repeatedly and looked around for him so he could do just that.

He couldn’t see him over the stacks of covered containers, but he knew he was in there somewhere; he could hear him. His footsteps were heavy, making him easy to trace. Logan knew Victor did it on purpose so he could find him if he needed him. It just so happened that the steps were coming in his direction, so he stood and waited, his arms folded over his chest.

Grumbling to himself, it took Logan a minute to realize he was smelling something; something other than cold metal and strange chemicals. He lifted his head to better scent the air and caught the faintest whiff of leather, of a strange, exotic mixture of spices that he couldn’t identify. He would have thought there was a window open, letting smells in from outside, but there were no windows in this place. Whatever it was, it was in here with them.

They’d been working here for weeks now, and they’d never encountered anything like this. Still, Logan didn’t feel threatened, merely curious. That scent…he drew in breath after breath, appreciating the newness of it. He liked it whatever it was, and curiously he could feel a rumble deep in his chest. His growls tore from his throat, only the contented sounds came from deeper. Why would a smell cause the rumbling sound his brother often told him sounded suspiciously like a purr?

Feeling Victor come up behind him, Logan started after the smell, trailing it through the corridors formed by walls of stacked crates. It was getting stronger, and Logan’s fingers were beginning to tingle in anticipation. More than leather and spice, there was something else, something sweeter and Logan wondered if maybe he’d be able to keep it, whatever it was.

The smell soothed him, relaxed him. Even hunting it down through a warehouse, he didn’t feel cautious. There was no tension that always came with the unknown, he was enjoying the chase, and every moment he spent tracking down the appealing scent was a moment he didn’t have to waste on these stupid boxes.

He stopped, confused. It was getting faint again… He turned around and shoved his brother out of the way, going back to where the smell was strongest. There was nothing there, nothing on the floor, no strange shapes beneath the coverings on the crates. Where was that coming from? He would have whined if his brother hadn’t been with him. He could smell it, but he couldn’t find it…

Breaking in had been all too easy for a Thief of his caliber. There was no security system to speak of, nothing but a couple of men walking around through stacks of an as of yet unidentified chemical compound. That’s why he was here, to procure samples for his employer. If it was something he could use, Gambit would be back another time to liberate some of it, but for now, all the information he needed was tucked safely inside the mysterious pockets of his coat.

He’d been careful. He’d watched the warehouse for days and knew it was the same two men, night after night. Sometimes they would walk together, sometimes they didn’t, but it wouldn’t be an issue either way. The job was an easy one, so Gambit had taken to watching the guards to entertain himself. They were close, he could see that even from a distance. He’d initially thought lovers, but that didn’t sit right with him. Close friends perhaps, or family. It wasn’t unusual for family to work together at this kind of job.

Whatever the case may have been, Gambit had no trouble sneaking into the lab, getting test samples and copying quite a bit of information from their computers. He’d been on his way out when he’d seen it. He’d looked back, just to be sure the coast was clear before he made a dash to the door, and had seen the smaller of the two standing with his nose in the air.

Of the two of them, Gambit had liked the smaller one and had taken to watching him a bit more closely than his taller counterpart. He seemed edgy, frustrated, and possibly annoyed with his companion. Gambit had entertained himself with making up scenarios about what they could be talking about, usually involving flannel and bad beer. But there was something about him with his dark hair and searching eyes that drew Gambit’s attention. He wouldn’t have minded getting to know him better under different circumstances, but for now, he couldn’t help but wonder what the hell he was doing.

Gambit’s eyes widened when he started in his direction and a smile had broken out over his face. He could smell him. He didn’t know how that could be, but he was moving unerringly in the right direction. Perhaps that should have worried him, but it didn’t. Curious, he shifted on the support beam he was perched on, and settled in to see what happened next. The big one could smell him too, and was obviously more hostile about it, but Gambit wasn’t worried about that one. His eyes were all for the pretty one and he was rewarded with the man’s own curiosity. Maybe getting caught by him wouldn’t be such a bad thing…

He wanted to laugh when they came to a halt just beneath him. Why did no one ever look up? It went against every instinct he had, all the training he’d ever received, but he couldn’t help himself. Putting what he imagined to be an appropriate smirk on his face, he whistled to draw their attention, “Up here hommes…”

At the soft voice, Logan’s head tilted up and he took several steps back so he could comfortably see the speaker. Ignoring Victor’s snarling curses, Logan studied the figure, eyes taking in all the detail he could make out in the building’s dim interior. A long body sprawled out along one of the immense metal rafters like he was posing for a shot in GQ. Clad in some kind of black suit complete with head covering; Logan wished he could see more of his face than just the little left exposed. Though he would quite clearly see a smirk that turned a pretty face into something a bit more tempting and the most unusual eyes Logan had ever seen.

Red on black, like rubies and onyx… The man was a mutant, like him, like his brother. He had to be- “What are you doing up there?” He asked. Even to himself, he sounded more amused than annoyed. “Better question, how the hell did you get up there?” The crates were stacked a good sixty feet in the air and the rafters were a good forty, fifty feet above that…

“Got my ways homme.” Gambit’s smirk faded into a smile and he stretched a little, propping his head more comfortably on his arm. He definitely liked that one. That voice, deep and warm, made him think of roaring fires on cold winter nights. Being a gambling man, he’d bet between the two of them, they could have come up with something fun to do some cold night.

“Yeah, I can see that.” The movement, oddly catlike, drew Logan’s eyes to the long leather coat draped over the tall form. “Still doesn’t answer the first question. What are you doing up there?”

“Lookin’,” came the drawled reply. “Wha’ else? Gotta great view from up here.  Can see an attractive security guard real good from all de way up here.”

Logan ignored Victor’s indignant noise and grinned up at the stranger, still sprawled apparently at his ease, watching them. “Could see better from down here,” he offered. Logan wasn’t the least bit interested in apprehending him, but he did want a closer look. Even as good as his eyes were, the distance and the shadows weren’t doing him any favors. “Why don’t ya come down?”

“Like to homme, believe me. But my job ain’t done yet.” Knowing those eyes were on him, Gambit writhed up into a sitting position and rose slowly into a crouch. “Damn shame,” he sighed, “but de boss wouldn’t be happy wit’ de delay.”

Pissed at being ignored, pissed about standing there, listening to his brother flirt with some strange man, Victor snarled up at him, “What’re you supposed to be? Some kinda piss poor cat burglar?”

“Oui, homme.” Ignoring the taunt, the smirk returned to his face and Gambit leaned forward, a purposeful provocation of the bigger man, “an if I’d known dere’d be a couple bloodhounds, I’d a brought some Milkbones wit’ me.”

“Get your hands off of me Jimmy-” Enraged, Victor lunged for the crates only to be hauled back by his brother. He was protecting some smug pretty boy he didn’t even know. Pissed, he snarled and snapped and tried to wrench free. “I’m gonna kill the little rat.”

“Use your goddamned head!” Logan snapped, fear making his voice sharper than his brother’s anger. “We don’t know what’s in those things, Vic.”

“I’d listen to ‘im homme. Unknown chemicals…dey can be hell on a man. Jus’ t’ink wha’ dey’d do ta de interestin’ bits huh? Ya never know.”

“What kinda chemicals?” Logan asked, now more determined than ever to keep his brother restrained. “Are they dangerous?”

“Dunno,” Gambit shrugged, “I ain’t paid ta know what I’m stealin’, but in a set up like dis one cher…ya can bet yo’ fine ass dat it ain’t nothin’ good. Well,” He rose from his crouch, “I got what I came for. Bes’ be on my way.”

He turned to jump down and paused, turning back, “ya don’ look like no ‘Jimmy’ ta me.”

“Nickname,” Logan grinned, though he didn’t offer his real name, either of them.

“Merci Dieu!” He laughed, undisturbed by the lack of forthcoming information. He could find out who the man was if he were so inclined. He was, but he didn’t have the time yet. Maybe he’d just save the possibility for later. “Cause Jimmy an Vic?  Like Kibbles an Bits, only different. See ya ‘round cher.” Shooting him a wink, Gambit turned and jumped down from the rafter, to a pile of crates, and to the floor.

“You let him go!” Victor growled, cuffing his brother on the back of the head. “He stole something remember?!”

“Yeah, and how exactly did you want me to get up there?” Logan asked, rubbing his head. He didn’t give a damn about Victor’s attitude, especially not when he could still see that leap in his head. How had he done that? How had he landed a drop like that without once breaking his stride?

Mutant, he thought again. He had to be. Nothing else made sense. And now he had something to look forward to. He had himself a cat to catch…


	2. Lost and Found

Logan could still smell him, the unknown thief from the warehouse. Sometimes the scent would come to him so strongly, he would swear the man was right beside him, but he never appeared again. If he were there, why wouldn’t he show himself? From his flirting, Logan had assumed he was interested and while he hadn’t been with many men, Logan couldn’t deny he felt more than an inkling of interest himself.

Those eyes were fascinating, that voice smooth and honeyed made him want to purr, and though he hadn’t gotten a good look at the whole package, he’d seen enough to make him want to see more. The black thing he’d worn had been skin tight, but he hadn’t been in any position for Logan to look as freely as he might have wished.

That would change. All this thinking was driving him crazy. He’d grown restless, and while that wasn’t unusual in either he or his brother, it had happened much more quickly than normal. Whatever contentment he’d found here had disappeared with the flapping of a long, leather trench coat, and the beast in Logan demanded that he hunt down the object of his obsession.

Was he obsessed? Maybe. There was the ghostly scent, and he only had to close his eyes to see those unique eyes again. It had taken him a little while to place the accent. Southern, he’d known that immediately, but he’d spent so little time down south that he’d struggled to figure out what kind of southern.

Cajun. It had come to him while he’d been sitting in a chicken place listening to his brother complain about the spiciness of the damn Cajun chicken. Victor had been too engrossed in his meal to notice the way Logan smiled. Cajun, his little cat was a Cajun thief. That shouldn’t be too hard to find.

He’d set out with that in mind, leaving his brother a vague sort of note. He would be back, he’d never leave his brother for long, but he had to try to find the thief. He was invading his thoughts, his dreams, and he had to see him again. He wouldn’t get a decent night’s sleep until he had. Somehow he had to get the man out of his system, he just wasn’t quite sure yet how he intended to do that.

Maybe he had thoughts from time to time of carefully shredding the black fabric hiding that body from him. Maybe he imagined nuzzling against his neck and drinking in the sweet smell of him again until he felt drunk with it. In the privacy of his own mind, he could think about tasting him to see if his skin held the same unique flavor as his scent. Logan wanted to taste, he wanted to touch, and he was going to lose his mind if he didn’t.

He’d never realized how big Louisiana was. It didn’t look that big on a map, but Logan had been every damn where and nowhere sounded quite right. He was snarly, he was grumpy, he was painfully unsatisfied, and he was no closer to finding his thief. It wasn’t like he could just walk up to someone and ask them if they knew a thief, approximately six feet tall that smelled like sin. It would have been so much easier, but of course, nothing was ever easy for Logan.

He almost wanted to give up, go back to Victor and try to forget all about the stranger that had so deeply gotten under his skin. He’d find a woman, a tall one, and try to sate himself with that. It would have to work…

It wasn’t his thief that drew him to New Orleans so much as a want to see the ocean. He liked looking at the water, and he was already this close so he might as well. Tomorrow, he’d go see it tomorrow. It was getting dark, so he’d just find a room for the night and hope he could get some sleep in this damned loud city.

Logan had parked his bike in front of a hotel and had swung off of it before he realized what it was that had loosened his shoulders. The smell… The air here was a peculiar mixture of sweetness and spice. He was going to blame it on the restaurants and bakery he could see from where he was standing, but a man walked by him on the sidewalk, talking on a cell phone, and his accent was so very similar to the one he’d been searching for.

Was this it? Was this the place? He looked around himself with new interest, hope swelling in his heart and pushing away his travel exhaustion. New Orleans…he should have known. This should have been the first place he thought to check, it made sense and it would have spared him a lot of frustration, but he was here now. Reenergized, he walked inside to escape the heat and get a room, then he would go hunt down a bar and see what he could find.

Much like tracking the Cajun down, finding a bar was more difficult than Logan anticipated. In some towns, there was only one, and sometimes depending on its popularity, it was difficult to find. That was not a problem in New Orleans. No, it boasted exactly the opposite. There were too damn many in this city. He liked a good bar as much as the next guy, but come on…

He’d hoped to find his thief at such a watering hole, but how was he to choose the right one when there was a bar every so many blocks? It would take him days to sort through them all and he still might miss him. He could be gone, he could go to a different bar every night- Growling his annoyance, he shoved his fingers through his hair and walked into the first seedy drinking den. He would go in, take a quick look, and if he didn’t spot him, he’d go on to the next.

He went through five bars that way before he found one that felt promising. This one had the same music, the same barely dressed female waitresses, but the look of the clientele was different, more upper class in a way. There were card tables to one side, a big ass jukebox in the corner that seemed to be there more for looks than music as there was a live band on a stage at the front. Neon lights irritated his eyes as he made his way toward the bar. He needed a drink. He’d been searching for hours, it was hellishly humid here, and he’d earned a drink.

Lucky enough to find a stool, he slid onto it, his back to the bar, and ordered a beer. He wanted to be able to scan the crowd, the dancers, the people at the card tables. He hadn’t gotten the greatest picture of his quarry, but those eyes would be unmistakable. He’d give it a few minutes, drink his beer, and if he didn’t find him by then he’d move onto the next.  Why was he so desperate to find him? Logan really wasn’t sure, all he knew was that he had a bone-deep need to see him again.

A man who trusted his instincts, he enjoyed the coolness of the beer and just watched. The night life here was certainly vibrant, and lust pumped through the air, rivaling the beat of the drummer on stage. Logan didn’t dance as a general rule, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t watch and enjoy one of the few social activities that hadn’t changed over his long life span. The dances may have changed, but dancing itself was alive and well.

Alive. That was a good way to describe the overall feel of the city. It was alive and teeming with energy, much like his little cat had been… He chuckled into his beer and shook his head. He didn’t know when he’d started thinking of the thief as his, but he did. Time would tell if he would stake any real claim to him, but for the moment Logan liked the hunt.

He almost didn’t catch the scent over the nauseating aroma of expensive chemicals from the woman that had stepped up to the bar beside him, but Logan leaned forward to see around her. There at the other end of the bar, a man watched him, a man with red and black eyes. The bartender sat another beer down beside him, compliments of that very same man and across the slight distance the two of them stared at each other.

Logan wasn’t sure he would have recognized him from this angle. His face was open, eyes and mouth smiling. His hair looked strange in the neon from the lights overhead, but it was some kind of brown, maybe a reddish brown, and pulled back away from his face in a way that hinted it was long enough to tie up. He might have stared forever if his thief hadn’t flashed him a wide smile and gestured him over.

As it was exactly what he wanted, Logan complied with the summons, picking up his beer and fighting the thick crowd around the bar to get to him. The bar had filled since he’d entered, but somehow there was an empty seat next to him, and Logan claimed it before anyone else decided to try to take advantage of his delectable treat.

He didn’t know such a simple ensemble of jeans and a t-shirt could be so unreasonably attractive, but the man looked just as good in them as he did in the black thing he’d worn. Logan made a rather thorough study of him, eyeing him shamelessly and angling toward him on the barstool. It was a move that implied possession and for the time being, that’s exactly what he wanted. He’d traveled a long ways and had hunted him all across this damn state, he’d be damned if anyone interrupted them now.

Logan had known he was tall, but sitting beside him, even with him leaning forward, elbows braced on the bar, he was still taller up close than Logan had anticipated. That might have bothered him in anyone else, but his scent made everything else seem so much less important. The looks, the charming voice, the grace of movement in those long limbs, all of those were simply bonuses.

He took a deep breath, leaning closer to the thief. “Been lookin’ all over for you,” Logan said, his chin propped almost playfully on the other man’s shoulder.

Gambit had been surprised to see the man - ‘Not Jimmy’ he reminded himself - walk into his favorite bar. He’d come in for a drink to drown out his disappointments. Sure he’d gotten paid handsomely for that last job, but the cash wasn’t what interested him. Gambit liked money and he would never turn it down, especially when he’d earned it, but if he’d had his choice of rewards, he would have rather had a couple of days with a certain attractive mutant.

He hadn’t known the two were mutants, not exactly. The sniffing was a little amusing, but it didn’t necessarily mean anything, so he’d mentioned it to his employer. Enhanced senses usually meant a feral mutation, he’d been told. Those types of mutants had a tendency to be very animal-like in nature, not that Gambit minded particularly. The man could sniff him all he liked so long as he got to play too.

It had been a jolt to see him walk into his bar, looking all sexy and annoyed. Gambit had entertained a thought or two while watching him that maybe he was here for him, but had dismissed them almost as soon as he’d thought them. The man didn’t know his name, didn’t know where he was from, there was no way he could track him down. Yet here he was, and his heart may have leaped a little at his almost accusatory admission.

“If I’d known ya was lookin’ cher, I’d a made myself a whole lot easier ta find.” That deep voice practically in his ear made him want to shiver, so he smiled instead, turning his head to look at him over his shoulder. “How de hell’d ya find me anyway?”

“Wasn’t easy,” Logan admitted, nuzzling lightly at his shoulder. He’d had to move a little; in turning his head, they’d almost been nose to nose and it had been a real struggle for Logan not to lean forward a little and capture that smiling mouth with his own. He rubbed his cheek against the soft material of his shirt instead, scenting him, leaving his scent there on the off chance he should run into anyone else with Logan’s mutation. Whether Logan decided to claim him or not, having another feral’s scent on him would warn most others away. “Had to follow your accent.”

“Followed my accent?” Gambit repeated, smiling at the idea and how the other man was rubbing against him like a big cat wanting to be stroked. “Well now, dat’s one I shoulda considered. I’ll use another next time.”

“You can do that?” Logan asked, returning his chin to his shoulder.

“ ‘Course I can,” he said with a grin. The expression on his face and the cute little tilt of his head reminded him strongly of a dog, friendly and adorable and endearingly curious. He couldn’t resist showing off just a little for such an attentive audience. “I can do damn near any accent. Then there’s the phrases, the slang; it’s a useful skill in my line of work.”

“I can imagine,” Logan said, laughing a little. It was incredible, hearing a different tone, a different accent with every few words. It was like he had so many different people inside him. “How long did it take you to learn that?”

“A while,” Gambit admitted, “but it was somethin’ I started pickin’ up quick. Now, ya followed lil ole me all de way ta N’Awlin’s my good sir, wha’ever can I do fo’ you?”

Unsure whether to laugh or roll his eyes at the newly thickened accent, Logan just shook his head, “I think, considering it was a pain in the ass to find you, that you could at least tell me your name.”

“Come now cher, ain’t I done bought ya a drink? Don’ ya t’ink after extendin’ such a hand a friendship dat ya should tell me yo’ name ‘fore I give ya anyt’in’ else?”

This time he did laugh, and he took a drink of the beer that had been bought for him, “Logan. My name’s Logan.”

“Logan…,” he purred, “I like it. Well den Logan, my friends call me Gambit. My enemies call me Gambit fo’ dat matter, but at de moment I’m likin’ de friend part better.”

Gambit, a strange name, but Logan couldn’t ignore that while he’d offered a real name, Gambit had given only a moniker. No matter how much hearing the man say his name sent little tingles down his spine, he couldn’t bring himself to trust a man that wouldn’t reveal even the slightest bit of personal information about himself. Especially when Logan had given up his own name simply because he’d been asked.

He didn’t know why it was so important that he be able to trust this man, this Gambit, but it was, and a codename wasn’t enough. Taking a final drink, he shoved the bottle back and pushed away from the bar. “Nice meetin’ you Gambit. I better get goin’.”

“Hold up a minute!” Surprise and disappointment warring in him, he gently grabbed Logan’s wrist to keep him from moving any further away. “What’d I do?” One minute he’d been relaxed enough to flirt with him, and the next there might have been miles between them. He didn’t understand… “Thought ya came all dis way ta see me?”

“So did I, but you ain’t the only one with trust issues bub. Give me a name or let me go.” Logan caught movement from the corner of his eye and briefly turned his gaze away from those mesmerizing eyes. Two men had stood up from a nearby table, another from the other end of the bar, all wearing bits of purple that matched the kid’s t-shirt.

“Your friends come lookin’ for trouble, they’re in for a bad day,” he said softly. “Call ‘em off before someone gets hurt.”

Swearing softly, Gambit rolled his eyes and shook his head at the interference of unwanted backup. It irritated the hell out of him that he couldn’t even have a conversation without someone trying to butt in. Making eye contact, one after the other, he sent them back to their seats and offered a shy smile of apology, “Desole cher. For some reason, dey think Remy can’t handle ‘imself.”

“Remy? That’s your name?”

“Oui. Remy LeBeau at your service mon ami.” He flashed him a charming grin and tugged gently on his wrist. “Don’t go oui? I’m sorry. It’s a habit; most people don’t care what name I give ‘em.”

“Remy,” Logan said again, sitting back down beside him. “Suits you. Are you in some kind of gang Remy?”

“Gang? Moi?” Remy laughed and propped his elbow on the bar and angled toward him, “hardly cher. Remy ain’ into drugs, an he don’t do guns if he can avoid ‘em.”

“Then who’re your friends back there?” Logan asked, fingering the sleeve of Remy’s t-shirt, “I thought the whole wearing the same color was a gang thing.”

“Dat’s a lil complicated cher. Remy ain’ really supposed ta talk ‘bout it. I’ll jus’ say dat purple’s a family color an dese guys work for my daddy.”

“You have bodyguards?” A corner of Logan’s mouth lifted in a grin, “are you a problem child, Remy?”

“Mayhap I am, but I still don’ need no damn bodyguards. Babysitters,” he scowled, “dat’s what dey are. Can’t leave de house wit’out ‘em.”

“I didn’t see ‘em at the warehouse with you.”

“Dat’s cause I was workin’,” Remy shrugged, “unless I need help, no one goes wit’ me on a job.”

“Uh huh…and does your dad know you steal shit?” Logan asked curiously, motioning at the bartender for another beer.

“Oui, cher. Dat he does.”

Logan quirked an eyebrow at the smug little smile, “Why do I get the feelin’ I’m missin’ something?”

“Can ya trust Remy darlin’, when he says dere’s things he ain’t allowed ta tell ya? It ain’t a danger ta you in any way…”

He’d dealt with more than his share of liars over the years, and if the kid was being deceptive, he was damn good at hiding it. Wide, earnest eyes and a soft voice made Logan want to believe everything he was told. Obviously, there was something going on that he didn’t understand, something Remy was involved in that was some kind of big secret, possibly a family one. Logan understood about the burden of keeping family secrets.

What could be bigger than him being a thief, Logan didn’t know, but he still didn’t feel threatened by Remy so he was willing to give a little. He was far more interested in figuring out whatever this was between them than wondering what Remy was hiding. Maybe, if they eventually reached a point they could truly trust each other, Remy would tell him what it was.

“I think I could go on a little faith here,” Logan nodded, “if you’ll have dinner with me.”

“Remy’d love ta have dinner wit’ you cher.” Remy traced a long finger over the back of Logan’s hand, “Remy’ll show ya a good time.”

“I’m sure,” Logan purred, grabbing hold of his hand, “but stop callin’ yourself by your name. I might start thinking you’re talkin’ about someone else.”

“Wouldn’t let no one else have de pleasure a showin’ you ‘round dis fair city.” Remy smiled and flicked his wrist, offering Logan a business card. “Meet me here, when ya lose your tail.”

“What?” Still fascinated at the way he’d made a card appear out of nowhere, Logan frowned over at him, “what tail?”

Remy jerked his head at the mirror behind him, “Take a look. He came in jus’ after you did. Been watchin’ de whole time.”

Raising his eyes over Remy’s shoulder, Logan looked in the mirror behind the bar and growled softly. “Victor… Dammit. I told him I’d be back.”

“Deal wit’ ‘im cher, den come find me.” Remy stood and leaned down, pressing his lips softly to Logan’s. “I’ll be waitin’.”


	3. Matched

Soft lips and the faintest, teasing taste of Remy almost made Logan forget why he was annoyed and edging toward pissed. He hadn’t even gotten the chance to watch Remy leave because he’d spotted his brother coming at him the moment Remy had moved away. He had seen two of the three of Remy’s bodyguards leave, while the third kept his seat at the end of the bar. The man could watch for all Logan cared, all he would see was an argument anyway. 

“What are you doing here?” He demanded when Victor slid onto the stool Remy had been sitting on. A part of him wanted to snarl that he get up, that he was fucking up the lingering traces of Remy’s scent, but he kept himself in check. That would only make things worse. He knew why his brother had tracked him all the way here, but that didn’t mean he was happy about it. “I told you I’d be back.”

“Yeah,” Victor growled softly, “that’s about all you told me. I thought we talked about this Jimmy.”

“You talked,” Logan said, raising his hand to get his brother a beer, “but I’m well passed the age where I have to listen to every fucked up rant that comes out of your mouth.”

“He’s a goddamn thief, Jimmy. He’s no good. Guys like that never are.”

“How do you know?” Logan asked, his tone oddly defensive. It shouldn’t matter to him what Victor said about Remy, hell he should be agreeing with him. Despite their tendency to argue, Logan did trust his brother and he trusted his instincts as much as he did his own. As a general rule they didn’t like being stolen from, so he could understand his brother’s issue with Remy, what he didn’t understand was why he didn’t feel the same.

Something about Remy grabbed at him, whether it was the eyes, the scent, the voice, or a combination of it all he didn’t know, but Logan found his reaction to Remy was different than anything he’d ever experienced. He never turned into a lap dog, for anyone, but that’s exactly what he was doing with this kid. He couldn’t bring himself to care; being near Remy made him feel lighter in a way he hadn’t felt in years. He wasn’t ready to go before he’d even explored the possibilities.

“You’re needed on this planet,” Victor snarled, whacking him upside the head when he’d noticed his mind was wandering. It didn’t take a genius to figure out where it had wandered to. He’d been here long enough to watch them, and he sure as hell hadn’t missed that little parting liplock…

Smug little brat had known Victor was watching and had wanted to piss him off, that was the only thing he could come up with. Why else would someone kiss a relative stranger? It made no sense. None of it made sense. Jimmy never acted this way. He would never have torn off across the country on so little information, and without leaving any real information behind.

 Victor had been pissed, and maybe a little worried, so he’d set out after him. They’d quit the best paying job they’d found yet, not to mention the easiest, and that was just one more thing that made him want to tear into his brother’s hide. He’d just left without talking to him, they were brothers, they were partners. If he’d wanted to move on, he should have damn well said something. Victor would have done his damnedest to talk him out of it, but if Jimmy couldn’t be moved, then he would have packed up and gone right along with him.

That’s how they’d always been. They were family. Now that dynamic was changing because his little brother had caught the scent of some pretty boy thief. Victor wasn’t an idiot, he’d seen the way he’d reacted to the kid. He knew how restless he’d been since then, but he’d never imagined he would have taken off to find him. What the hell? The kid’s scent hadn’t been that good. Sure, it had beaten the hell out of dust and chemicals, but Victor would take a bordello, hell even a burger joint over that any day.

He just didn’t understand. When they caught a scent they liked, they chased it, that was instinct, but normally he and his brother ran in tandem. This was something new. It was unusual for them to react so differently over scents. Sometimes a car or a woman, even a building smelled better to one over the other, but it had never been like this. They’d never just up and abandoned each other over a smell before.

“I know because I, unlike you, used my head. I made a few calls, asked around, and found out who your thief is. You’re walkin’ into some serious level shit Jimmy, the kind we don’t get involved in.”

“We get involved in anything for the right amount of money,” Logan sneered, tipping back his beer, “isn’t that what you always tell me?”

“Not this. These people don’t like outsiders and we need to get the hell out of here.”

“He’s just a thief. What the hell’s got your panties in a bunch?”

“It’s not the boy that worries me. Him by himself we can handle, but this is New Orleans.” Victor ignored the rigid set of his brother’s jaw and leaned closer, a careful eye on the man at the other end of the bar. “You rode straight into thief central. The guy I talked to said this is where they’re based, the head at least.”

“It’s not the damn mafia Vic.”

“The mafia isn’t full of world class thieves at war with a bunch of secretive psychos, also based right here. I’m not interested in getting caught in a turf war here.”

“So leave.” Logan turned his head a little to regard his brother, “you’re not worried about thieves and secret gang wars. You don’t give a damn about any of that. You want me away from Gambit.” It felt strange using that name, but something in him felt protective of Remy, and he didn’t want to give Victor his real name in case his brother decided to do something stupid. “Me, I’m staying a while.”

“Don’t be an idiot,” Victor growled, “you don’t know this kid. Nothin’ but trouble there Jimmy.”

“And I should just take your word for that? You don’t know him either, so how is it you can say all this shit about him and I’m just supposed to take it as fact?”

“Because I’m the older brother and I say so.”

“That shit stopped workin’ on me a long time ago Vic. I’m not a kid anymore. You’re my brother, but it’s my damn life.”

That was the hell of it. Victor missed the days when his brother trusted him completely, hung on his every word. It was the only real love he’d ever known. Jimmy was all he had, and he was terrified of losing him. “I’m just tryin’ to look out for you.”

“No, you’re not. You just don’t like him.” It was almost enough to make Logan smile. This was just so Victor, anything he didn’t like, it was bad, it was wrong, it needed to be left bloody behind them somewhere, but not this time. He liked Remy, and for once he wanted to do something for himself.

“He insulted me!” Victor said, his grip tightening on his beer bottle at the memory. “Dog my ass…”

“They’re just words, Vic.”

“Oh yeah, yeah, they’re just words,” he snarled. “Well, you weren’t the one being insulted. You were just being molested by his eyes.”

“Maybe,” Logan growled back, his patience wearing thin, “and you know what Vic? I kinda liked it. Why don’t you get the stick out of your ass and admit what your problem really is? Are you afraid I’m just going to forget about you, or does it piss you off that I like that a man was looking at me?”

Both, it was both, but Victor would rather have his skin peeled off in strips than admit he was afraid of anything, “It ain’t natural,” he grumbled.

“Don’t give me that shit!” Logan demanded, slamming his bottle down on the bar, “I’m more than an animal. I don’t have to live by some damned primal instinct. You might not mind living that way, but I won’t. I like him, and here’s a newsflash for you, this thing in me likes him too. Why the hell do you think the way he smells drives me nuts?”

Victor had no answer for that. It was odd for him that his brother would go for a man. Himself, he couldn’t have handled that kind of thing; the animal part of him would have seen it as a challenge and he would have killed the man that tried to flirt with him. Yet his brother was perfectly fine with it.

“I’m tryin’ to protect you.”

No, he was trying to protect himself, but Logan didn’t have the heart to kick him while he sat there, looking so damn miserable. “You taught me to protect myself. I need you to let me. I need you to let me live, Vic. If it doesn’t work out, I’ll come find you.”

“And if it does?” Victor asked, feeling the hole inside himself growing at just the thought, “what? Is this goodbye?”

“We’re brothers,” Logan stood and laid his hand on his brother’s shoulder, “it’s never goodbye. I’ll call you.” He tossed some bills on the bar, straightened his leather jacket, and walked out to hunt down the address on the card Remy had given him.

Still, he trusted his brother, so he didn’t look back. He didn’t see Victor slide off his stool to follow, or the man in black get up to follow after him.

♠♣♦♥

New Orleans at night was an experience, one Logan wasn’t sure he liked. It was louder at night than it had been during the day, and if it was possible, there were even more people packed together on the sidewalks. He had no interest in bars or clubs, or whatever the hell those places were that were pumping out music through doors thrown wide to beckon passersby. He wanted to find Remy.

A tall shadow fell over him, blocking out the moonlight and Logan looked up at the building towering overhead. It was the right address, but how was he supposed to find Remy in a building with so many floors? Would he be forever hunting him?

Movement caught his eye and he stepped back, tipping his head all the way up to look at the roofline. A smile grew slowly over his face as he recognized the tall form standing on the roof, staring down at him. Even though he’d only seen it the one time, he felt he would always recognize the way that long coat billowed around Remy’s body.

Just how was he supposed to get up there? How had Remy gotten up there? Had he just walked in the front door? Doubtful. The front windows were dark and Logan had a hard time believing a business would just leave its doors unlocked just to give someone access to the roof. There had to be another way up.

He went around the side into a little alley that ran between the buildings and smiled. There was a fire escape going up to the roof and moving closer, Logan shook his head in amusement at the playing card stuck between two rungs on the ladder. The king of hearts… Logan wondered if that was supposed to represent Remy or himself, either way, he tucked the card into his pocket and made the slow climb to the roof.

A faint wind tugged at him before he was all the way up and even though Logan wasn’t afraid of heights, he released a grateful sigh at feeling something solid under his feet once more. He looked around for Remy and didn’t know whether to be grateful he hadn’t seen that embarrassing ascent or disappointed that his back was to him. Either he was far too trusting, standing with his back to the only access point or his eyes were better than Logan thought and he’d seen him go around the building.

Did the strange color mean he could see better than normal people? Logan would have to ask. There was so much about him he wanted to ask and there was no time like the present. Pulling the card from his pocket, he walked over to Remy, oddly relieved to see he wasn’t as relaxed as he appeared to be. “I’m not going to push you off,” he assured with a little smile, “though a roof is an odd rendezvous point. Here’s your card back.”

“Keep it, cher,” Remy winked, pulling a deck from one of the inner pockets of his coat, “I’ve got more.”

“What’re you lookin’ for?” Logan asked, taking a step closer to the edge so he could look as Remy did. “Anythin’ interesting going on down there?”

“There’s always somethin’ of interest happenin’ here mon ami,” Remy smiled, bumping his shoulder lightly, “but tonight I was watchin’ for you.”

“Flatterin’,” Logan grinned, “but I’m here now, so you can move away from the edge.”

“Afraid of heights Logan?”

“No,” he looked again to judge the distance to the ground and shrugged, “that fall wouldn’t kill me, but I’d be severely pissed off.”

“You quite de man cher if a fall like dat wouldn’t kill ya,” but to please him, Remy moved away from the ledge to lean comfortably against a nearby wall. “I was actually checkin’ ta make sure ya weren’t followed. Your friend didn’ seem ta like me very much.”

“He’s just pissed you called him a dog,” Logan laughed, “he’ll get over it.”

“Really? Here Remy thought he was mad cause ya took off on ‘im.”

“How did you…?”

“ ‘Victor dammit. I told ‘im I’d be back.’ Dat’s what ya said at de bar. I take it he didn’t like ya comin’ ta look for me?”

“No,” Logan said slowly, trying to process the fact that Remy remembered what he had said, word for word. “He wasn’t happy about me leaving, but he’ll get over it.”

“Gettin’ over it, cher indicates dat he’s pissed an Remy ain’t lookin’ for a fight.”

Logan’s shoulders hunched and he looked away from him, “do you want me to go?”

“Hell no, I don’t want ya ta go. Jus’ lettin’ ya know, whoever dis guy is ta you, dat I don’t want no trouble from ‘im. ‘Specially if he’s like you. Would a fall like dat kill him?”

“No, and before this goes any farther, he’s my brother so I would appreciate it if you wouldn’t speculate about the things that would kill him.”

“Desole cher, didn’ mean no harm. Jus’ wanna be prepared in case he decides he really don’ like Remy.”

“Will you please stop calling yourself that?” Logan had never considered himself to be an overly emotional person, but this man somehow managed to bring out so many different things in him. There was outrage and an instinctive desire to protect his brother, annoyance at Remy’s strange habit of referring to himself in the third person, and under it all that undeniable pull he felt for him. Even from here he could smell him, and his scent was quickly dealing with his irritation.

“I’ll take care of my brother. I promise I won’t let him hurt you.”

“Logan,” Remy pushed off the wall and walked over to him, “I don’t need no one ta protect me.”

“You don’t know him,” he muttered, finding the cocky smile Remy had given him both endearing and aggravating. He didn’t know what sorts of things Remy could do, but he knew Victor. If it came to a fight between the two of them, Logan would have to weigh his vote on Victor which meant he would have to protect Remy, whether he wanted it or not. “I don’t want to argue with you.”

“Non, but ya don’t believe me either. Dat’s ok,” Remy kissed his cheek, “understand ya can’t take my word for it. Ya ain’t dat kind.”

“How do you know what kind I am?” Logan asked, his hands finding holds in leather and drawing Remy closer so he could press his face against his neck. “We just met.”

“Oui, but I’m good at readin’ people.” Enjoying the attention, Remy tilted his head to the side and let his eyes close blissfully at the feel of warm breath on his skin. Logan hadn’t shaved, but Remy didn’t mind. The scruffy look was kind of nice on him, not to mention the stubble as Logan nuzzled at his neck made him wanted to laugh a little. He wanted to curse his ticklishness, but it felt good being close to all that solid warmth and Remy didn’t want to risk offending him.

“We don’ know each other yet,” Remy said softly, rubbing at Logan’s shoulders to soothe the tension there, “but I’d like ta get ta know you cher. I’d like dat very much.”

“What’re you waitin’ for then?” Logan asked, pulling away just enough for Remy to see a roguish grin that made him shudder appreciatively.

“Ya know? Ya make a damn good point. What de hell am I waitin’ on?”

If it had been possible, Logan would have said Remy pounced on him. Remy barely moved, just enough to lean down and capture his mouth in a kiss, but the movement had been abrupt, almost predatory in a way that made the animal in him purr. This was a challenge, this was excitement, and rather than feel threatened by the possessive way Remy’s mouth came down on his, Logan hauled him closer to better appreciate his passion.

He wasn’t one to submit, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t enjoy a little battle of wills. He would come out on top, in the end, the animal in him demanded it, but he didn’t mind Remy leading for a while especially if he intended to keep kissing him.

Logan had done plenty of kissing in his life, but this was different. He wasn’t frenzied, rough, trying to get his partner to submit to him. He didn’t want it over so quickly. He hadn’t gone into this with the intention of allowing himself to become seduced, but the things Remy made him feel with only a kiss made it hard to remember why.

The taste of Remy, the feel of him, was like nothing Logan had ever known. With only one real kiss between them, that taste of him sizzled along Logan’s nerves and made him crave more. His hands slid beneath the coat, over the soft fabric stretched taught over lean muscle, and under that clinging material to explore skin with a deep, rumbling purr.

Remy gasped against his mouth and chuckled, breaking the kiss to lean against Logan, and bending so he could lay his head on his shoulder. “Dat tickles,” he said with a breathy laugh, trying not to wriggle as those strong, warm hands slid along his back.

“Ticklish huh?” Logan grinned. Charmed with Remy’s squirming, he lightened his touch considerably to see just how extreme the condition was. “I think I like the sound of that.”

Oh yes, he liked it, the airy little laughs and short, indrawn gasps… They did things to him, things he highly approved of. If he was this responsive to just a little bit of stimulation, Logan could only imagine what he would be like when they finally decided to hit the sheets.

That’s where this was going, he wasn’t an idiot. He might have jumped the kid already, but that was moving a little fast, even for him. It might be better to take things slow with this one, no matter how kissable he was. Remy felt like more than a one night stand to him, a great deal more if the rest of him was as good as his kisses.

The tickling devolved into petting, his hands moving softly, slowly over his back and shoulders. Logan liked touching him, maybe more than he liked kissing him. Touching Remy could become an addiction, especially given the way he stretched, catlike under his hands.

Distance, Logan decided, a little bit of distance and a little bit of conversation before things went too far too fast. There was so much he liked about Remy, and now he wanted to start getting to know him. “You were gonna show me around,” he reminded gently, easing him back. “That still the plan?”

“Oui, cher.” Remy breathed softly, his skin still tingling a bit from Logan’s hands. His hands were as skilled as his mouth. It almost made Remy want to cry or give thanks, or both. Only much later, in private. For now, he wanted to show Logan around, hopefully, convince him to stay a while. “We’ll go anywhere ya wanna go.”

“Long as there’s beer, maybe some food, and you, I’ll be happy with anything.”

“Easy enough ta please,” Remy winked, taking Logan’s hand to pull him back toward the ladder.

“Ya got no idea Cajun,” Logan laughed, pulling him back for another quick kiss. “Play your cards right, though, and you might.”

“Oh cher,” Remy grinned, raising Logan’s hand to his lips, “I’m real good at cards.”

The kid was a smooth operator, he had to give him that. Logan might have thought they were just two friends out for a night on the town if not for the quick touches and the occasional stolen kiss. And he was having fun, which was surprising. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt so relaxed in public, but Remy seemed to have that effect on him.

He was just so damn happy, almost bubbly in his excitement to show Logan this place, or have him taste that. Logan was being thoroughly entertained, though he didn’t think it was quite the way Remy intended. He enjoyed what Remy showed him, the stories he told with the flair only a local could manage. He liked the music and the drinks, the general atmosphere that no longer felt oppressive with Remy beside him, but it was Remy himself that Logan would always remember about this night.

His smile lit up a room, he had enough energy for ten people, and Logan swore he knew every damn person on the street. Everyone he talked to left smiling, and that was a talent Logan envied more than he could say. People liked Remy; he was funny and sweet, clever and charming, and just so damn…nice. Logan didn’t know how he’d gotten someone with such a light inside to look twice at him, a grizzled soldier that preferred staying hidden in shadow, but he was selfish and quickly becoming possessive of his own personal ray of light.

Logan liked New Orleans, not like Remy did, but he appreciated a town that had good music, served beer on damn near every corner, and didn’t blink when two men stopped on occasion for an embrace or a sometimes passionate kiss. Logan had to like a place that wouldn’t give him shit for kissing Remy in public or holding his hand. He could be quietly possessive here with none of the growls or glares. It was an oddly freeing experience.

The night ended far too soon, well before he was ready. He wasn’t sure that he would ever be ready to let Remy go, but he’d watched him walk away from the hotel and tried not to dread the loneliness that waited for him in his empty bed…

♠♣♦♥

Logan woke with a start, the way he always did when he had that dream, knowing now what he hadn’t known then. It had been years since the night he’d met Remy, but even time didn’t ease the sting of betrayal.

Victor had been waiting for Remy and had attacked him in an alley not too far from the hotel Logan had been staying in. No matter how many times he’d asked, he couldn’t get either of them to tell him the particulars of that encounter. All he knew was that somehow Remy had made it back to him, bleeding terribly from deep gashes that could have only come from his brother’s claws.

He’d gotten Remy to the hospital, but nothing then or since could make him forget the feel of blood on his hands, or the thrill and the horror, the disgust he’d felt when the scent of his blood had made Logan forget himself for a moment. It had been only a moment, quickly ended by the arrival of Remy’s family demanding to know what had happened. Logan had been at a loss to explain.

Luckily Remy had done it for him. Logan’s relief that he was alright had been embarrassingly evident, considering he’d kissed him right there in front of Remy’s father. It had taken some time to win them over, but he’d done it. Logan knew now that Remy’s family had liked him initially for Remy’s sake, but as the years passed and it became evident that he wasn’t leaving, Logan liked to think the affection they showed him now was genuine.

There was nothing in the world that could make him leave Remy. Sometimes a mission called him away, but he would always come back to Xavier’s where they’d made their home.

It hadn’t always been easy, their years together. Sometimes they drove each other nuts, and no matter how often Remy proved he could handle himself, Logan still hated letting him out of his sight for long periods of time.

That had been Sinister’s doing. After he’d kidnapped Remy, Logan had gone into a rage, the feral in him taking over as he searched madly for his mate. Those months without him, not knowing if he was alive or dead had nearly broken him. Every day since he’d gotten him back, he would touch Remy, trace his scars, and thank whatever was out there that he’d made it home. He couldn’t live without him.

“Too early for dem kinda thoughts,” Remy murmured sleepily, leaning into Logan’s touch. He knew all about Logan’s nightmares, the ones that woke him with a scream were horrible, wars and bloodshed that Remy didn’t want to imagine. It didn’t matter how often he had them, or how late it was, Remy could never blame Logan for waking him. He could never blame him for living through such a hell. Instead, he would gather him close, holding, soothing, kissing away the dregs of bygone horrors.

After a time with those, Logan would eventually settle back to sleep, but not when he was like this. It made Remy sad that memories of him would cause Logan to lose sleep, but he understood it. Where he didn’t like to dwell on the past, Logan stewed over it, worrying it to death until it would drive him from their bed and into the shower to begin his day.

Remy didn’t know what time it was, but it was still dark and he was having none of that. He rolled over on top of Logan, giving himself the illusion of trapping him in place. Remy wasn’t dumb enough to believe laying on him would keep him if he really wanted up; Logan wasn’t above dumping his ass on the bed, or onto the floor if he felt crabby enough but Remy was warm and comfortable and he wanted a little more sleep. He never slept as well once Logan had left him.

“Go back ta sleep,” he urged gently, nuzzling his face into the crook of Logan’s neck.

Logan didn’t question how Remy knew what he was thinking; he’d woken him up often enough that he was bound to know his dreams about as well as he did. Once Remy had stopped his squirming, Logan proceeded to run his hands over his back, smiling softly while he coaxed his lover back to sleep.

His warm, smooth skin calmed him as it always had. The feel of him, the scent of his skin and hair relaxed him even as Remy’s weight comforted him. The kid still wasn’t heavy, but it felt nice, the constant reminder of his presence. Before Remy, he hadn’t liked his partners sprawled on top of him, it was too restricting, but he couldn’t mind it now. After all, it was the least he could do after convincing Remy to give up wearing a shirt to bed.

Logan liked feeling his skin, and he was more than capable of keeping Remy warm. He didn’t need all the layers. It had been a bit of a battle, but eventually, they’d found a middle ground that had suited them both. Remy could be as touchy as he liked and he could sprawl like a log as he was want to do in a deep sleep, so long as there were no barriers between their skin but the silk pajamas his Cajun had a strange addiction to and that it was understood that no matter how they started the night, come morning, Logan would be wrapped around him, holding him safe within the circle of his arms.

There had been no serious objections to the arrangement, but then, so long as they were together they didn’t argue about much. Secretly, that was a relief to Logan. He would do anything for Remy, but damn if he would spend his time arguing about it. There were much more enjoyable ways they could spend their time.

His fingers stroked slowly through Remy’s hair and he smiled, pressing a kiss to his head. He may tease him from time to time about needing a trim, but he hoped that day never came. He would miss the petting and the long, loose silken strands that he liked to wrap around his fingers anytime Remy stayed too close to him for too long.

There was so much he loved about him, so much that he could never put into words. He’d just make a mess of it and embarrass himself if he tried, but he’d been lucky enough to find someone that knew. Even without the words, Remy knew how much Logan cared for him.

That had been the pull, that strange, inescapable desire to be near him. Logan had fallen hard for his scent in that far away warehouse and had fallen harder for Remy on a busy street in New Orleans. He loved him, and even if he didn’t say it aloud as much as he said it in his head, it was still a marvel to him. He loved and was loved. Nothing in his life had ever mattered more.

Sentimental in a way he would only be with Remy, Logan reached down and pulled the blanket up over Remy’s bare shoulders. “I love you, Rems,” he said softly, leaning his head comfortably against Remy’s hair.

So sure he’d been asleep, it surprised a smile from him when Remy answered him silently, a wave of love washing over him. Logan’s eyes fluttered closed, content to be wrapped in Remy’s love for him, a love that so closely mirrored his own.

Predator and prey, when it came to Remy, Logan had been both. For Remy to hunt him as he’d hunted Remy, it was a game like no other and it had given Logan what he’d always wanted. He’d found his partner, his equal, his match and when at last Logan turned, tucking Remy safely against his chest, he purred out his sleepy satisfaction.

There would be other days, other hunts, but now that he had Remy he looked forward to them. Whatever came next, they would face it together and between the two of them… He grinned, nuzzling happily at Remy, there wasn’t a chance in hell that they could lose.


End file.
